The Land of NeverWas

Where all the "Might Have Beens" live

Archive for the category “love”


My grandma passed away recently. She was a quiet, unassuming woman who lived a quiet, unassuming life, but she meant the world to me.

When many people die, it is as if they were suddenly saints, no matter what sort of person they were in life. But not grandma. This isn’t to say she didn’t have flaws, she was human after all.

She was my rock, my port in the storm, my true north. If I ever got lost all I had to do was look to grandma and I could get right again.

And she did all of that with few words. She showed me more than told me. She showed me how to live in strength through terrible heartache, although I am not convinced I would be able to endure what she endured. She showed me what unconditional love could be. I believe it is thanks to her that I am able to love my kids the way I do because, other than her and mom, I didn’t really have much in the way of role models there. She showed me so much more than I can express here.

I miss her. I always will.

She deserves to be remembered. She deserves recognition.

All she gets are these weak words because I can’t find any strong enough to say what I think she deserves said.

Even “I loved her with everything I have,” isn’t strong enough.

But it will have to do…


I look at the stars and dream and wonder

As the crickets serenade me a lullaby.

I feel the breeze and I think and ponder

As I close my eyes with a hopeful sigh,

And think wherever you are,



Perhaps I should have been more patient. I know for a fact I should have been stronger. Fucking love. Makes me weak when I need to be strong. I always thought it was the other way around and love made you strong when you were weak. But I suppose that is only the case when the other person loves you back. It requires strength to be patient and I lost both when she told me she “Didn’t feel it for us.” Those words exploded every little hope and dream I had. Once uttered it seemed such a waste to even pretend anymore. It seemed pointless to continue to torture myself when she seemed so certain about her feelings. So I left. But doubt began to creep back in. What if all I needed to do was keep fighting? What if all I had to do was keep showing her what she meant to me. What if I had been more patient? What if I had bucked up and been strong and worked through the pain her words caused and kept going? What if it was only insecurity on her part that made her say that? She couldn’t really have known already. Could she? We hadn’t spent that much time together and the time we had spent together was fantastic. I thought. And she seemed to think so too. So what made her say that? She listed off the reasons but when she got to “My heart” my blood froze and my own heart struggled to deal with that fact. I had been so, so certain that once we got to a certain point that she would see what I saw. That we would work. I guess it was the depth of my feeling for her. I loved her so much that there was nothing I wouldn’t have done to make us work. No sacrifice I wouldn’t have made to let her know I was in for the long haul. But no. Those words cut me to my core and I ran away. If she had said anything but that I think I would have stayed, but knowing she didn’t feel us as a couple was more than I could take then. So here I am left with nothing but



the insanity of cupid’s arrows

Is it cowardice to armor one’s heart against the barbed arrows of a Cupid gone mad? One who shoots his arrows without regard to consequence? Is it cowardice to wish to avoid the pain of his pernicious arrow sinking in to my heart alone? The arrow that he so maliciously forgot to also shoot into the one I fell in love with?

“Perhaps, it is. But I don’t care.” I think as I buckle the armor on and shut my beating heart away into the darkness once again.

shaking & shattering

I’m shaking.

I don’t know whether it is from the coffee on an empty stomach or the flurry of emotions that are swirling inside of me, bumping themselves along my nerves and up against my skin. I think it may be a combination of the two and I hope that the emotions aren’t able to find a crack in my facade and work themselves out. They are trying with everything they possess. I feel as if I have an earthquake dwelling within me and it is only a matter of time before I break from the constant shivering.

What started it? What was the butterfly effect? What seemingly innocent action somewhere else set into motion the little ripple that grew into this tsunami inside of me that threatens to drown me in ruin? I don’t know. It’s probable I don’t ever want to know. I wonder how he did it? What words did he use? What caught her eye about him? Did he make her laugh? Did he make her feel special? Did he make her feel sexy? What did he do that I never could? What was it about him that turned her on so much? What the fuck did he do or have that turned her away? What caused her to leave me here

shaking and shattering?


I am lightly dreamt and poorly written.

A ghost of memory spied upon the mirror.

The falling echo of a word unspoken.

All that I am is see-through and you walk within me unknowing.

constructing the kingdom of nothing

you keep busy. it doesn’t matter what you are doing. you just have to keep yourself busy, keep the mind occupied. make a lot of noise. scream inside of your head. whatever it takes, just so long as you drown out what your mind and your gut are trying to tell you. because you really don’t want to hear it. your heart starts pounding on the walls of its cage of ribs desperately trying to raise a ruckus. it covers its ears. screams “lalalalalalaaaaaaa” at the top of its lungs like a little kid that is trying to ignore some unpleasantry. you can’t let yourself think. you have to keep hammering the nails into those boards. sawing, sanding, shaping. keep building. keep moving forward. because if you let yourself stop, if you let your mind think and your gut knock the wind out of you, if for just a second you make your heart be still and shut up and listen to those tiny voices trying to nag their way to the forefront, you’ll be forced to look around and realize you’ve been busy constructing the kingdom of nothing.

and then where will you be?


My words,
like a flock of startled birds,
flit and fly,
and when they settle where do they roost?
Within your heart
or merely upon your eye?

a word too far

There is that excruciating moment of fear when your heart is pounding her name but you don’t know how much you should tell her. Your heart is at a gallop but you are afraid to give it free rein because you are nervous it might ride you both right off the cliff, because every time she crosses your mind (which is literally all the time) you just feel like you have to talk to her right then or you won’t be able to sleep that night. And it feels so amazing but you don’t want to blow it by making it too much. But nobody ever explained what the hell the limit is or why the hell there is even a limit in the first place. I mean, something that feels this fucking amazing just can’t –  shouldn’t – be limited. Right? Apparently it is. And so you find yourself in that paradox where everything you think you know about romance is telling you to climb the highest mountain and shout out your feelings to the whole goddamn world, while reality is saying that you need to reel it in, parcel it out, don’t let yourself get carried away. Which is maddening. Especially since you can’t remember the last time your mouth longed to kiss someone so much. How long it has been since your trembling hands longed to trace every lovely inch of a woman’s skin. It is ancient history, barely remembered, since the last time your knees got shaky and your heart skipped a beat. And there she is, talking to you at last. Right there. Her eyes looking into yours. So close but yet so painfully far. The journey has started but still so many miles to go yet. You’re quivering for a kiss, a touch. You want to tell her all of the crazy ways she is making your insides jump around, like you swallowed a whole bag of jumping beans. You argue with yourself, a whole schizophrenic conversation playing out in your head, while you smile and do your best to win her heart. You’re going to say it. Fuck the rules. She has to know. You draw in your breath. But what comes out is something inane and safe. You do more listening than talking so you don’t kill the fragile new flower that you hope will blossom into the full beauty of love.

If only she knew of the inferno within. If only.

But better to play it safe than to lose it all simply because you went a word too far.


how can i burn for another
when i never stopped burning for you?

Love is Hell – Theory of a Deadman

I think this song speaks very well for me. Enjoy.

heart, mind and love

When it comes to love which rules? Does the brain rule the heart or does the heart rule the brain? Or perhaps they work in tandem with each other. First the mind convinces the heart that it is in love and then the heart takes over from there. Whichever the case, the heart seems to rule with an iron fist over the brain when it finally gets into power. No matter how logically you attempt to approach love, you find your mind swerves and crashes like a car on a rainy road, completely out of control. Your heart lives for those times it beats for another and it will not willingly give up its throne so that the coldly calculating brain can take back over and rein it in from its joyful romp. Even when the heart finds itself broken it only extremely reluctantly gives up the scepter, maddeningly pulling the mind down with it. The heart plays movies of your beloved in the theater of your mind, sometimes with no sound, just sitting there lonely in the dark watching the images move across the screen, painful images of what was and what could have been. But finally, when the heart has had its fill it looks back with one last wistful glance, shuts off the projector and closes the door. Leaving the memories in the dark.


All it would have taken was a kiss.
I know this.
A long, deep look into my eyes.
Yours full of nervous anticipation.
Mine full of desire and disbelief
that I finally had you in my arms.
My hands in your hair.
Your head tilted back and your eyes closed.
Just a gentle touch of the lips,
softly, tasting, caressing.
At first.
Tiny nibbles on your lips.
My hand caresses the side of your face
traces down your neck.
Then the storm of passion ignites
and we are lost on the tossing
waves of the sea of passion
as our lips
press together
more intensely
and our tongues
dance together
then separate
and we become more
than human we become two souls
interlocking, interweaving,
spinning into love
sweet sweet emotion
that opens our hearts
for they have been closed
so long
but now the doors fly open
and the sun shines in
and I feel a tear
well up in my eye
and that tear leads me back
to reality.

For this never happened
we never fell
we never loved
and all it would have taken was a


time to let the tears
and get it over with

time to let hope
and stop being foolish

time to realize
she is happy while i am sad

time to hurt so
that i can barely breathe

time to try and
happy for her despite the pain

time to wave
and stop keeping it all in

time to cry,
time to cry and say goodbye

time to admit
it’s just time.

Dear Girl of My Dreams

Please hurry the fuck up.



Quitting still leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

I still can’t give up the thought that I just needed to hold on a little longer. One day more, a month, what did it matter? In the long run I had already put so much into it, a bit more time was nothing. But it seemed that the rope I had held on to so desperately had whittled itself down to a thread and I was in danger of falling into a chasm of waiting forever. Nothing was given to me at that point to believe holding on was going to make any difference.

So I quit.

I gave up.

That’s okay sometimes, isn’t it? Once you get to a certain point and realize you are more fool than patient, it’s okay to walk away, right? Was I a quitter or did I walk away because I had to? It feels almost like the answer to that would be: both. I had to quit. I would have never stopped if there seemed to be any point in going on, but the only person in the world I needed to tell me to keep going wasn’t saying anything. I’m stubborn. I beat my head against walls every day in pursuit of what is important and meaningful to me, but even I know that after a certain point you are just going to knock yourself out and wake up with a big headache. That brick wall isn’t going to budge no matter how hard you ram your head against it.

But I still can’t help but wonder; what if I had refused to quit? Damn the Hollywood movies that show a guy doing something desperately romantic for his lady love and winning her. I had all of these crazy ideas in my head. I was going to drive to her and make her talk to me, give her an impassioned last minute plea that would make her understand that no one would love her like I did, write her the love letter of all love letters and wrap it around a rock and throw it at her window. Whatever it took.

Then I realized, while all of that worked like a charm in Hollywood, all it would do for me was get me arrested, beat up (by her probably) or gain me a brand new restraining order. Crap. Romantic gestures like that just don’t work in reality. I would have loved to have tried, but the last thing I wanted was to have seemed crazy or scary in some way.

So after I had read what she had said, those words that cut me so invisibly yet so deeply, I sat back – stunned, dejected, hurt, seething, lost, confused, frustrated – and pondered my next move. There was a pressure inside of me as all of these emotions battered me heart and soul and grew like a snowball. The pressure began to leak out and I really had no idea what to do with it. I couldn’t direct it in the direction I wanted. It had become too massive and unwieldy for me to tame.

And so I typed an email. Hit send.

And became a quitter.


Perhaps it’s me.

Perhaps I long for something that isn’t realistic. Perhaps I long to burn too fiercely and perhaps there’s not a woman out there willing to step into that flame. It can be intense and frightening, I realize. There’s two sides to that coin, after all, and my passion burns on both.

Or, perhaps, love and the fire that goes along with it is only ever intended to be a one way street. Perhaps only one of the two is meant to burn while the other merely enjoys the warmth. In my own experience, it has been either I am on fire and she isn’t or she is on fire and I am not. Never have the two met. And that is what I have been looking for. A kindred spirit, a kindred flame that wants to join her fire to mine so that we can burn brightly together.

But in the end, perhaps that’s the problem. I am just not meant to find that fiery vixen, full of passion wrapped in long legs and a beautiful smile. Perhaps I am meant to be the wandering soul, forever searching, yet never finding. The world needs those too right? I mean, who else is going to write the lovesick songs and poetry? Who else is going to cry out with words the pain that dwells within so that others, who are temporarily lost and hurting, can read them or hear them and realize they are not so terribly alone after all? Because there is someone else out there whose job that is. They are the poets of loneliness that will eternally scribe their pain for all to share. Yes, perhaps that is my purpose on this earth. That would explain why it always comes so hard and goes so easily.

However, I can’t allow myself to believe that. I have to believe she is out there, searching for me as fervently as I am searching for her. Perhaps she is holding her flame in her hand and looking up at the night sky and longing for her fire king to come and join her in that beautiful conflagration known as love. And perhaps, some day I will see her flame and recognize it as the twin of mine and I will smile and know the journey is over at last. And perhaps, I will still have time to feel like I have truly lived for once in my life as I burn with her.




I didn’t find love where I thought it lay but I can assure you that I will find it some day, some year. And then, finally, I will wrap myself around someone, strong, brave, and beautiful and the tears that fall from my face will be those of happiness instead of sadness. And every night spent alone and wondering will be long lost in the mists of time, and I will only regret that it took me so long to find her and that our time together won’t be as long as it could have been. But any minute, any second, with her will be precious and nothing will tear her from me until the moment I breathe my last with her name on my lips.

I will let the water of her love wash over me and I will feel renewal.


there will be nothing left for you to see.
no inkling of anything to do with me.
nothing here, nothing there,
there will be nothing for you anywhere.
you have made your choice,
so no more will my voice,
share a thing or a feeling,
or pour out of my being,
in heartfelt love or pain.
it will wash away with the rain.

in the dark when your heart gently weeps
at the things you denied but which it still keeps
close to itself, all alone does it cry,
asking, with mine, why why why?
something that shall never be answered,
by thought, by deed or even by word.
i can’t fight the enemy of the past
and finally at long last
i just have to let the thing
go and, hurt as it may, become nothing.

and so i thought….wrongly

You know, I thought that I would be
the man who fit that hole in your heart
snugly like a puzzle piece.

You know, I thought that you would be
the one that would teach me
how to love unconditionally.

You know, I thought, like a stupid pup,
that maybe, at long last,
things were finally looking up.

You know, I thought this of you,
that perhaps, after all,
a dream could come true.

You know, I thought this all along,
but now I stand confused at
how I could be so terribly…wrong.

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